When the Cold Comes
by Sgt. Psycho
Summary: A POV story. Warning, Character Death.


Author's Note: I know this sucks but please R&R anyway. It's my first on ToD so it is probably my worst. 

Disclaimer: Don't own them, don't sue.

I don't know what I'm suppose to do. Sure I've been trained for this, but being trained is very different from being in the real thing. These two men are depending on me and I don't know what to do. Johnny would, but Johnny's gone. Only four more days and I would have been back in the World, back home. What the hell am I suppose to do? Stupid goddamned fucking mission.

I know I'm going to die. I don't think there has ever been a pilot that survived this sort of crash. I can tell that the cockpit will hit the ground dead on. I know the two men know that it is hopeless and that there is nothing I can do. When your hit in the air the only thing you can do is wait. That's what I'm doing now, waiting. I can except death. There's nothing keeping me here except the store back home, but these two men aren't ready to die. If only I'd insisted on one more gunner we would've been fine.

I never noticed how green Vietnam is. I never noticed the jungle or the long grass like I am noticing it now. If it weren't for the war it could be almost beautiful. A good spot to visit for the sights and sounds of nature. I think I like it. It's almost impossible to hate; it's so beautiful. 

The least I can do now is crash in a clearing. That might give the men a chance, not a great one but a chance just the same. The ground is approaching faster now and I let my hand drop from the throttle and go to my dog tags. I let the cool metal comfort me, but I'm oddly calm and don't need any comfort. I feel the impact and the burning sensation against my skin. It hurts. My last thoughts are of home and the store.

I descend into blackness.

I wake up to blackness. I shake my head a little bit only to have a wave of dizziness hit me. I open my eyes and wait for my vision to clear. What the hell happened!?! I stand up. Bad idea, I sit back down again. How long've I been out? I feel my head. There's a long gash around the side of my head. It hurts a hell of a lot. I try to stand again and manage to stay on my feet for a full ten seconds before I fall back down, vomiting because of the pain. Not good. I look around and see the chopper, five meters away. It's burning, the cockpit is totaled, no way the pilot survived that.

LT! Oh shit! The LT was on the opposite side of the chopper, across from me. I have to stand up. I push myself up and force myself to stay standing despite the pain and dizziness. 

"LT.!" I call out my voice is hoarse and I'm suddenly aware how thirsty I am. 

"LT.!" I try again, approaching the chopper in clumsy steps. "LT.!" I stop next to the burning metal. There's a form in the back. I move forward cautiously. The form ain't movin'. The flames are movin' back, it'll explode soon. "Goddamn!" I swear. I gotta get him outta there. I brace myself and reach into the burnin' huey. I feel a hand and grab it. I give it a pull. I hear the body slide across the ground. I give another pull but the body doesn't move. It's stuck. I pull harder. I'm panicking. There's a sickening pop as I dislocate the arm, but that doesn't stop me. Shit! What the hell is he stuck under? I pull even harder and to my surprise the body comes rocketing back on top of me. I fall over but quickly recover myself. I pick him up and get as far away from the chopper as I can.

It explodes and I hit the ground. Little chunks of debris fall near me and the man I'd hauled out've the chopper. I cover him as best as I can. When the debris finally stops raining down. I look at the man. It's definitely the LT. There simply ain't no mistaking the boy. He's unconscious and having trouble breathing. With every breath a trickle of blood comes sliding down the side of his mouth. There's a long cut up the side of his face and the back of his head is covered with blood. His right shoulder is dislocated. I move down to his chest. All of his ribs are broken. He stirs and opens his eyes. 

"LT.?" I ask as I look at him. He blinks a few more times and opens his mouth to speak but instead starts coughing. "Keep quiet now, LT." I whisper when he's through coughing. "You're hurt."

"My legs." He moans. I move to his legs and notice the blood for the first time. Both of them are broken. I lift up each of his pant legs and study the cuts and bruises that mark them. In his right leg there is a large piece of metal that is inside. I draw my knife.

"LT., this is gonna hurt but I gotta do it." I don't think he heard me. He still looks dazed. I touch is good cheek and make him look me in the eye. "Lt., ya gotta listen to me. I need to get a piece of metal from your leg. This is gonna hurt, y'unnerstand?" He nods, he understands.

I take the knife and lift his leg up. I locate the piece of metal and plunge the knife in. He screams and struggles. I flick my wrist and the piece of metal comes flying out, but the boy continues to scream. I shut my eyes, trying to shut out the tortured screams. I take his hand in mine and squeeze as he continues to scream. He passes out. 

Voices! And they ain't speakin' American either. I look to where the voices are comin' from. I make out some shapes. Damn! They'll see us. I look at the LT and back at the VC. We've gotta get outta here. I pick him up. The boy's heavier than he looks. I stand up. I can't seem to see straight. That don't matter, I run. The cover of the jungle is just ahead of us. My head kills but I keep on goin'. 

I don't know how far I ran but I can't see the LZ no more and I don't think the gooks are following us. I don't pay attention to where I'm goin' and trip over somethin'. I fall and I can't get up. My head hurts too much. I can't stay here but I can't keep goin' either. The LT is still unconscious and his legs are under me. I feel my grip on consciousness loosening. And before I know it everythin' around me is fading.

I wake up to my name name bein' called. It's the LT, he's awake! I shift my weight and he cries out. Shit! I'm on his fuckin' legs! I get off of him but he continues to cry out in pain. I move up 'till I'm up near his head. He's still cryin' out. That boy is gonna call the entire NVA on us.

"LT, ya gotta be quiet." He don't listen. 

I take my hand and cover his mouth tryin' to shut him up. It muffles his voice but not enough. He's still loud enough for hell to hear. 

"LT come on now, ya gotta shut up." I look him in the eye but he ain't lookin' back. For once in my life, I ain't sure what to do. That ain't good in Nam. You gotta know what you're doin' or ya don't survive. I look around. We're surrounded by thick bushes, that's good. The VC'll have trouble locating us, but not for long.

Somethin' ain't right. It takes me a moment but then I hear it, or don't. The LT. is unconscious again. We can't stay here. I'm tired as hell and feel like shit but I pick'im up and move like all of hell is behind me. The bushes grab at my legs but the pain in my head is worse than tiny scratches that barely break the skin. The LT is squirming in my arms and moaning loudly. Can't stop now though. I stumble but continue to run.

The trees blur and become a single green wall that I'm runnin' through. Why won't the damned world hold still? I hear the LT, and my feet hitting the ground. I feel my lungs fightin' for breath, but I don't really feel or hear any of it. It's like I'm not in my own body. Nothin' makes sense. I trip again, but I continue to run.

Got to be several klicks from where we both started. I fall and realize I ain't gonna be goin' to much farther. I lie the boy down on his back and check out his wounds. They haven't clotted yet. He's still breathing, but with each breath a fresh trickle of blood runs down his chin. I crawl up to a tree and lean on it. I shut my eyes, just for a little bit.

I wake up. Agony spreads throughout my body. My legs, why do they hurt so much? What happened? Zeke! I remember Zeke, and pain. I call out, "Zeke? Zeke! Oh God it hurts! Zeke!" I hear movement near my side. I try to look but it hurts too much.

"LT, I'm right here." His voice is tired, heavy.

I start to shake. I'm cold, and it's hard to breathe. There is something warm in my mouth. Why am I cold? This is Vietnam; it isn't cold in Vietnam. The heat is the first thing that causes problems for the newbies they can't adjust. Some men find it hard to adjust back home because they find it to cold after Nam, but I'm still cold. I'm shaking. I can feel my limbs jerking as I shake from none existing cold. 

I can feel Zeke lifting my head up. He's holding me. The warm liquid in my mouth spills out. I know what it is. It's blood. It's becoming even harder to breathe. I open my mouth and try to form words. I want to tell Zeke how cold I am.

"I'm cold." I manage. My voice is weak. Zeke holds me closer, he's talking to me but I can't really hear him. The faint drone of his voice is comforting though. More blood comes spilling from my mouth. It's warm as it runs down my chin. I listen to Zeke's faint voice and close my eyes. I'm still cold but it isn't bothering me. My limbs slowly stop their jerking. I descend into blackness.

I hear him calling to me. I make my way over to him. He's in pain again. I try to comfort him, "LT, I'm right here." He starts to shake. It's like he's cold, but that ain't possible in the Nam. He seems to be havin' more trouble breathin' than before. He mumbles something. He's cold. I start talking,

"It's O.K. Sir, it's going to be O.K. Just hang in there. You gotta hang in there so's we can get outta this place. Listen to me LT. I need you to focus on me LT. It's gonna be O.K. Just listen to me. It ain't cold LT." I'm cradling his head in my lap. Blood is pouring from his mouth, and he's gasping for breath. Then he stops to jerk, slowly. I'm still cradling his head and talkin' to him…

Camp Barnett, Vietnam 1969 

Dear Charlise,

I'm sorry for not writing sooner. I got your last several letters just last night. You see my men and I have been sent in and out of the bush for the past several weeks on numerous different missions. I didn't mean to worry you, it's just that there is a lot on my mind. It's the missions I have been sent out on that have been on my mind. You see, they've all been to try and locate MIAs and suspected KIAs, not the best of missions to be sent out on. I'm happy, though, to say that some were successful. Others, will haunt me to my grave.

The one that truly stands out in my mind was a chopper that crashed carrying two men, a Sargent Anderson and Lieutenant Goldman. I had heard of them, supposedly they were great soldiers who earned some purple hearts throughout their tours. I knew more about Anderson than I did about Goldman. He was practically a legend around here. 

We were sent out to the chopper, which had been located when another huey was returning to base. We were set down at the ruins. There was a burned body in the pilot seat but no others. I got two men to pull out the body while the lieutenant called the chopper back. It was fifteen minutes before we got looking for the other two. At first we thought that maybe their bodies had been thrown from the ruins, but after searching, Farren, a private, found a blood trail. The LT called it in and we followed the red path into the jungle.

Unbelievably enough we found them more than 100 klicks from the ruins. I remember the men were all startled at what they saw. They have seen a lot in the past several weeks but I hear them talking about this still. The lieutenant was lying on the ground on his back. Anderson was kneeling, cradling the lieutenant's head on his lap. The Sargent seemed oblivious to us. He was mumbling under his breath. LT looked at me; he wanted me to break the trance that had fallen over all of us. I stepped forward and spoke quietly. From my new position I could see what I had already suspected. The lieutenant was dead. Anderson seemed to hear my voice and looked up. My God Charlise! The look on his face was so pitiful and disturbing. I don't know what I can say. That look will cause my nightmares when I come home. 

I've told you that Anderson was practically a legend around the base. He has been captured by the VC and has seen so much defeat and never broke once. But as I signaled to the others to come closer and help me take the dead man's body, Anderson tightened his grip and literally had to be dragged away from the body and sedated. Later on we were told about the condition of each of the men. 

Sargent Anderson had a very serious concussion and some internal bleeding. He had to be sent home and won't be back. As for Lt. Goldman, he was seriously injured. All of his ribs were broken and one was lodged in his lung. It looked like it went through very slowly and probably made it difficult for him to breathe. Two broken legs cut up pretty bad too. The kid probably wouldn't have been able to walk again or at least not without a great deal of pain. Also, he had one dislocated shoulder. 

The thing I don't understand is how they got that far away from the chopper in that condition. A Sargent, who knew Anderson and Goldman, I think his name was Tyler or Taylor, anyway, he said that those two had been best friends and that Anderson probably carried Goldman. That can't be true, can it? I don't think I would've been able to carry myself that far had I been in Anderson's condition, let alone carry another. They must have been close friends for him to do that.

I'm sorry if I'm worrying you but I had to tell somebody. I love you and I hope that you understand my need to talk. I can only think of one way to describe this. I heard this from the Sargent (Tyler or Taylor) when I expressed my disbelief in Anderson carrying Goldman. All he said in response was, "Sometimes in 'Nam."

Forever your lover,

Sargent Geoffrey Learner 


End file.
